Life Goes On
by killura
Summary: Seth Rollins is a new teacher with his career on the mind, and nobody is going to get in the way of his success. Dean Ambrose is a loser in his English III class, and he frankly can't stand the little shit. The boy who started as a pity-project soon becomes a big part of Seth's life, but Dean's instability might be more than either one of them can handle [AU]
1. Prologue: Know Your Enemy

**[Prologue: Know your Enemy]**

* * *

As a teacher, even in his first year, Seth was partly convinced that he could read the mind of his students. He had trouble understanding them at first, but after listening to the advice of some mentors, he found it was pretty easy to understand young adults.

They all had a flare for the melodramatic, and you could get along with them if you humored them enough; they were kind of like cats, in an odd way. Some older faculty warned him of enabling the young and underdeveloped minds, but Seth's concern was his success the long run, not that of the kids. He couldn't actually say that in front of anyone, but...

Kids seemed to like him if he pretended to take them as seriously as they took themselves, anyway.

Even so, Seth Rollins was floored at their flair for the dramatics.

The first day of school, he had handed out one of those standards'G_et to know me'_-questionnaires; lines kids names and what they went by, their age –basic stuff. He'd included a section for personal interests and favorites – he'd learned some kids were really out there; they'd convinced themselves they were '_a different kind of person_' than anyone else in their 400 strong graduation class.

He got a kick out of the kids who claimed they were actually wolves; said they wanted a career in Guitar Hero… but the ones he really got a kick out of were the ones bordering on narcissistic.

One kid in particular, when given the option to explain how others had described him in the past, had written three words:

_Feral; Immortal... probably._

Based on other answers he 'd given, he was just trying to be a problematic little shit, but he'd it seemed he'd honest-to-god thought into that answer,based on all the eraser marks under those rough pencil strokes

One "Dean Ambrose" seemed to be a snarky little fucker who - if Seth was correct- would be the first ever Love/Hate relationship he'd ever taken part in.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm actually really nervous about this one - it's probably going to be more personal than anything I've written in a very long time. To make it clear, there is _not_ going to be a romantic or sexual relationship between these two at any point during the story, no matter what you think is going on. If it does happen, it won't be presented in a healthy or stable light. I am not going to romanticize a relationship like that.

As always, I would very much appreciate any kind of commentary you have to offer.


	2. Chapter One: Discipline

**Life Goes On]**  
**[Chapter One: Discipline]**

* * *

Arrogant or not, the kid was a bum. In the mind of Seth Rollins, he was the worst kind of loser – the kind that made it look enviable, and as if he was doing the world a favor by not taking part in it.

He knew he was supposed to help all the kids in his class, but this kid didn't need help… well, he did - he needed discipline, and he needed it bad. sometimes he'd heard other adults say there were some kids who would've turned out better if their parents had spanked them as kids. Seth didn't believe in corporal punishment, but...

But, this kid brought out the worst kind of person in Seth.

See, school had already been in session for a month, and Seth had this kid pinned. Dean Ambrose was a kid who could be getting straight A's if he got off his ass, but got away without doing so because he had every single person convinced he couldn't do any better than he currently was.

He'd already had talks with other kids about living up to their potential – Alicia Fox, for example, was a very smart girl who was too smart for her own good. Her grades sucked because she wasn't challenged enough – she thought this work was beneath her.

Kids like her and Bo Dallas took great joy in having someone tell them they saw great potential in them – he reminded them they knew they were better than what they were giving. They hid their smirks when he called them to his desk to have silent conversations about the effort they weren't putting in.

They reveled in the attention – in knowing that people knew they were better. They just needed somebody to push them. Now, Seth Rollins didn't mind being that guy. He _would be_ that guy because letting them slip through the cracks would be seen as his failure; not theirs.

Dean Ambrose had flat out ignored getting called to the front, because nobody could actually tell when he was truly asleep – curled up in a hoodie with an arm hanging off his desk and into an aisle. And when he _had_ gotten Dean to stay after class, the fifteen year old had done the most annoying thing yet.

_He flinched._

* * *

"Do you know why I called you up after class, Dean?"

Dean was obviously still waking up at the time of the conversation – he was at least polite enough to hold back a yawn and pretended to care. "Uh, t's mid… mid-term… those three-week review things."

Seth was amused, despite himself. It would almost be cute, were he not dealing with a sophomore in high school. "Yes, I want to talk to you about 'those things', Dean."

"Cool… can I have it?" He was reaching out, obviously waiting for his grade-sheet. He was _not _getting off that easily.

The papers were, instead, dropped in more frustration than even Seth knew he was capable of. "Alright, first of all – you don't try to grab something from someone with a hoodie, and—"

"This is my hand, coach."

"No, that is a hoodie _covering _your hand and you have never succeeded in picking up anything handed to you in this class when your hoodie is covering your hand. You are too old for this, Dean."

"But I did yesterday—"

"Hyperbole, Ambrose! It's hyperbole!"

"I dunno what that means, sir."

Seth was going to strangle him – the boy had answered a question on a test about the definition of the fucking word on his fucking test three days ago.

Instead, he was the adult – he had to breathe in, breathe out, and count to three. "Dean… Your grades are all over the place. You do – what? - one in three assignments."

"Sorry, coach."

"No, you're not – the stuff you turn in is always top-tier. AP-Level stuff!"

Dean rubbed the back of his head, avoiding eye-contact. "Yeah?"

"Yeah! And it's always your writing assignments that are really well-done, so if you can grasp these concepts enough to apply them, why can't you get multiple choice questions on simple punctuation?"

The boy shrugged, averting his gaze to the teacher's desk. He was getting twitchy, but he always got twitchy whenever he was called on anything – another student had asked his name the first day of class, and Seth had seen him fidget and hesitate. Seth liked it better when he was mouthy. He'd learned from the kid's writing that he was quite the smart-ass, even.

Seth stood, running a hand through his hair. "Dean, I see you finish all that work in class," he paused at this point, expecting an argument of semantics; he was waiting for Dean to tell him he didn't finish _all_ his assignments in class. When none came he had to work to reorganize his thoughts. ""Look, Dean – I see you finish all these assignments – I've seen you pull out completed homework assignments, and instead of turning them in you just… carry them off. Do you need help getting organized or something? We can work on that."

Dean froze, looking like a deer in headlights; rather than answering, he shrugged. Seth was pretty sure he had gotten a shade lighter in a few seconds time.

"Dean there's nothing wrong with that. If you need help, that's fine. You're a smart kid and you can get the grades."

Dean shook his head quickly, talking fast while occasionally darting his eyes to the open door. "Nah, I can do better. I'm just spacy. I'll start carrying a folder for this class. I promise!"

And with that, he bolted.

* * *

Indeed, Dean had started carrying a folder with him – he'd gotten organized. He even made a point of using it in front of Mr. Rollins. The kicker came when his turned-in classwork dropped from an average of one-in-three to one-in-seven.

He took a willing backslide, and he was always bolting before he could be called on it again - the few times Seth called him on it in front of the class, the boy had simply scratched his head. No other acknowledgement.

The little shit was making an effort to stay a loser. He _wanted_ to fail, and Seth's pride could never allow that to pass.


	3. Chapter Two: Too Early to Tell

**[Chapter Two: Too Early to Tell]**

* * *

Wise men know routines are for chumps. Unfortunately, Seth Rollins had gotten his ass all nice and comfy since school had begun three months ago.

Adults with degrees weren't awarded nice things like routines. Seth was barely awarded with things like money.

Set knew it was going to be bad when he rushed through the hallways well into the first fifteen minutes of school, pulled out his keys, and… found his classroom door open; not only open, but unlocked with the lights on. This was a very bad sign.

See, there hd already been… problems, this year. Some of administration thought Seth had a bad attitude – to which he said "_fuck them"_ quietly win a place they were not. He had a nice setup off no classes 1st'; 5th and 9th period – he could come late, leave early, and the perfect mid-day break…. _If_ he timed things perfectly.

He had gotten lazy, at some point. About a month ago, he had invoked the wrath of a certain man he did not want to cross. Ever since, h'ds been watching his back and today proved it had been necessary.

Inside, sitting on Seth's desk, was a very powerful man - at 255 lbs, he was the school's principal; Seth's boss, and an old family friend – rolled up into on giant ball of manly man

Not _at_ his desk; _on_ his desk and Seth was not boozed enough for anything coming… including the monster hug his boss wrapped him in, apparently unaware of any report he had as a monster among students and most staff. "Sethie, how have you been, buddy?"

Seth could already feel the boot physically taking shape in his ass.

"Under-caffeinated for your presence, sir. Please don't call me that."

"Naahh, I could call you Tyl? People hate their middle names – It's why nobody knows mine."

"Right, just… call me that quietly? _Please_?" Seth had to rub his temples after plopping into his desk chair. It was a mystery why a former bouncer was such a morning person… hell; it was a mystery how a bouncer became the principal of a high school in the first place. Some said he had a degree and an easy in through marriage, but it turned out he was more competent than his father-in-law. "Anyway, why are you here?"

"Because," Hunter smirked, situating more comfortably on Seth's desk because he could crush a student's if he weren't careful, "you weren't."

He got a _thrawp! _to the head with an obnoxiously heavy set of keys.

"You wee slacking, man; you're _still_ slacking."

Seth let his forehead fall onto his desk. "Give the lecture and then tell me what I did so I'll be awake for the important parts?"

"Alright? Have I given you My Cena/Orton speech?"

"Please, not again..."

"It's administration's favorite, though! See, the real problem is that you imitate Orton – he may be a great coach and get special treatment for it but he is _not_ a guy you want to imitate as an employee. Didn't anyone on staff tell you to listen to Cena instead?"

Seth's face construed. "But he's so annoying."

"But there's a reason why he's been around for so long – hell, he'll probably get tenure, knowing that asshole. _He_ doesn't forge timesheets; _he_ teaches what the state requires as begrudgingly as he's supposed to, and _he_ turns in student's grades and attendance charts. Among other things…"

Hunter took a long sip from his iced coffee and sighed. "Does that hurt?"

"You have… no idea, sir."

"Good, because that was all for me. This next part is going to suck a lot less for you than someone else."

_That's a first._

Shaking himself out of the urge to snark his boss, Seth waited, and Hunter did not disappoint. "Remember when I first told you why two months of ignoring attendance sheets were so important?" He did not wait for a answer. "Normally it's just because the system is really anal, but sometimes something really shitty can happen?"

Three seconds of silence led to Seth's nod. He knew it wasn't his time to speak.

"Glad you remember, because now I'm going to amend the statement - when people do their _jobs_," his throat was cleared, "cracks in the systems are sometimes missed - by not doing yours, you've brought to light a very… strange, case."

Knowing there was no way in Hell that was a thank you or an apology (or that he would get an explanation as to why him not doing his job would be a big deal – he'd come to find second period attendance is all anyone cared about), Seth went the safe route of asking what that was. Surely, it had to be very big to get Sir Principal's attention!

"Dean Ambrose -"

_Of fucking course._

" - English III, I think? The kid's going to be moving to your 8th period class as of next Monday."

Uncaffiienated, it took Seth a moment to process - Dean Ambrose was not his favorite - still his least, but maybe he… come to think of it, he had not seen Ambrose in a long time.

In fact, he'd forgotten Ambrose on purpose - class had run pretty smoothly without him - the normal productive kids weren't uncomfortable - he had started fights with a few, and Seth didn't feel as if he were witnessing some sort of backdoor criminal activity every time Dean talked to anyone else. Dean was a bit of a space case, and some students liked him for it - once a student next to him mentioned being $2 short for McDonald's and Dean handed him a $20 like it was nothing.

At the beginning of the year, the kids would try to give the bills back, but Dean would already be back in his own head. There were other kids, though… Dean saw right through them; they could talk to him for an hour and he wouldn't say a word to them; wouldn't acknowledge their existence outside of blank stares. The days Ambrose came to school, he had two modes.

Dean had _Fight_, or Dean had _Flight_.

Seth had forgotten him on purpose - so when he'd missed over a month of class over a six week period, he didn't think much of it - didn't want to, even.

Hesitantly, Seth threw out a question, knowing he was fishing. "Is he sick?"

Another T_hrawp! _to the head led Seth to miss a look of doubt on the face of his mentor – Mr. Helmseley didn't know the answer to the question himself – only that Dean had been for a long while. "Dumbass. Your English III is 2nd and 3rd period - what's your 7th and 8th?"

_Never caffeinated enough?  
_

"...Freshmen."

"Bingo."

"That's... How the fuck is Ambrose being pulled back two years mid-semester?"

Hunter sighed, smiling sympathetically. "That, Tyler, is a long story... don't worry, though - your class is affected so you'll be attending the parent/teacher conference about it... hell, maybe you'll even meet his Mother... God help us all."

Kids were piling in by the time Seth had ran this through his head. "I feel like I deserve more of an explanation."

Hunter grinned. "Oh, Sethie – We can only tell you as much as Dean and his family wants us to know – you should know how student's rights go?" That was a jab. "But don't worry –you'll know as much as anyone else if you can manage to be early, for once."

_Ass._

Without missing a beat, he was off the desk, seemingly unaware of students giving him a two feet radius walkways as he left the room.

Seth made it a point to take roll-call that day; Dan was, of course, out for the day.

* * *

I am so sorry for a lack of updates! It means a whole lot that people have PM'd me asking about new chapters… I'm very sorry chapters are arriving a lot later than I said they would.

I'm sorry things are very vague right now, but it'll clear up very soon, since after Chapter Five I'll be updating with two chapters at a time. I, uh, also know what the fuck I'm doing this time, haha…

It will speed up next chapter I promise. The next set of updates are planned, at latest, for Tuesday. =D

As always, reviews are very much appreciated!


	4. Chapter Three: Favors and Punishments

**[Chapter Two: Favours and Punishments] **

* * *

Being a newbie to teaching, Seth had only sat through a handful of meetings to talk about disciplinary actions _with _a student in attendance; he'd been through quite a bit more towards the beginning of the year to go over individual student's accommodation lists during his class periods… something he, admittedly, was not very good at respecting, if they weren't necessary in physically apparent ways.

This was one of those sessions he hadn't attended, yet – it was for a student who needed both heavy disciplinary action, but with heavy consideration to something… he wasn't quite sure about.

There were only two Psychologists the school employed – a young woman named Renee Young, and an old-fashioned and well-feared man who just by his students "_Heyman_".

Dr. Heyman, as far as everyone else had the balls to go with, was known for building up the roughest cases in the crudest, sometimes morally-questionable, ways that most school-districts no longer went for; Renee, on the other hand, was new, for students with issues that extended beyond rebellion. To be honest, his only knowledge of her had been her presentations during an orientation sometime late summer for staff.

She _had_ left quite an impression, though. He'd discussed it with Randy, who never talked about work off-shift; they'd narrowed the first-time impression to three phrases: _Great Public Speaker; has a strange warmth that makes you want to like her, _and the most important _Probably like an 8 – maybe a 9 off of work?_

Though new to the school, Dean was apparently well-acquainted with both, but Miss Young was here for today – which was good, because Seth had a feeling there was more going on with Ambrose than he'd wanted to think about... at the same time, he doubted it was that big a deal. The school system, in his mind, was too-willing to let people pass by with an easy excuse and a wave of the hand.

His doubts would keep him from listening very well during the coming hours – which, as a result, would keep him from hearing phrases like _schizophrenia _being used.

Absent-mindlessly, he'd found his way to the conference room – one of the mid-sized ones with those nice, arm-rest leather chairs with high backs and not-too-cheap coffee in the corner. I was obviously Hunter's favorite of the rooms I the administration office, not counting his own, seeing how well taken care of it was. Seth didn't mind. Not in the least. The meeting wasn't too large – there were four other teachers – all of them teachers of core-credit classes for both juniors and freshmen, probably to simplify the process.

Within fifteen minutes, the meeting had started, and Seth felt little need to pay attention to words and details.

After it was explained why Dean was a year and-a-half short of credits and everyone had yet to notice (Seth had earned that his suspicions were 2/3rd correct, and most of Ambrose's missed time from school was him being a self-admitted lazy, rebellious waste of space… though that last part was not in his words…

Admittedly, there was a pang of guilt when he learned some time was missed due to hospitalization), and that Dean would be moved to Seth's 8th/9th period class, he turned out most of the meeting – it didn't apply to him, and it gave him ample opportunity to decide if he was upset.

Not really – honestly, Seth didn't give enough of a fuck, one way or the other. Dean was a freshman instead of a junior – that sucked, but it wasn't his problem.

It took another 30 minutes to decide Dean was not allowed the luxury of credit recovery for sophomore English and History instead of dropping electives, since he hadn't completed their earlier courses. Seth didn't care – not his problem; to be honest, he cared about as much as Dean, who was busy drawing on himself, using a pen to trace his veins. Once he got bored enough to look at the details of the meeting, Seth realized there was no sign of dean's Mother… probably a good sign after Hunter's commentary.

Everything was going all too well – the few times Dean had started to mouth off, Hunter had shot him down though Dean looked like he practically got off on the attention, satiated with a small, lopsided smile after every scolding... Now that he thought about it, it was kind of weird that Dean would chose to sit next to the Alpha Male principal, rather than the counselor who could act as a Shield.

Sulking, Seth was now in a bad mood – Dean was fine with Hunter but he ignored Seth? Did he think he wasn't strong enough? Maybe not controlling enough? It's not like he hadn't made Dean bolt out of his classroom like a spooked animal…

Frankly, he was livid.

The meeting took a turn for the worst when a subject came up that both Dean and Seth thought had passed – Dean's truancy issues. While he hadn't missed enough school to have anything put on his record as a minor… not in this district, he had missed enough in general that his Mother, much to his agitation, and his old school district, had been working to find ways to make sure he made it into school every morning.

For the school, it started as a legal matter and then he turned into something horrible that had to be deprogramed; for the people who volunteered with schools for 'problem children', he was supposed to be an ego boost; truancy officer, he was just a challenge; for his Mother… well, he was a problem child the district was willing to take care of in the mornings. Why not take advantage?

Problem is, Dean had outsmarted them… or at least out-stubborned them. There were a few times he completely disappeared from the area when he found out a truancy officer – who he couldn't figure out was or wasn't really the police – was looking for him, he was gone.

Dean shrugged, tapping his wrist with his pen as eyes slowly tried to meet his for an explanation. "I developed a thing for camping."

There were various snorts throughout the room, probably the loudest from Hunter. Seth was not amused.

On the principal that this was Dean Ambrose making his life more difficult.

Vindication came when Renee continued her explanation. "Dean, they're right – you've caused your family enough trouble, and you know it. How many people have you caused trouble for? Do you really want to keep seeking attention this way?"

Her smile was small, but Seth saw how calculated – and effective – her words were on Dean. The moment she mentioned his family, he flinched.

"—Your Mother called earlier and asked for our help because she's worried about you—"

Dean shook his head repeatedly, licking his dry lips – silent words formed, but others came out. "No, no – I got this. I can come on my own, guys. Just uh – damn, just let me do this one more time, I promise."

Hunter cleared his throat taking over the conversation Dean had taken the bait laid in the form of a guilt-trip, and so it was his turn to seal the deal; finally removing his hand from his chin, he grunted. "We've discussed the possibilities, and haven't been able to find anyone who is on this team and well-acquainted with Dean's conditions… we are going to improvise for a short time."

With glee reserved for personal grudges, Hunter continued. "There is also the issue of finding somebody who is going to be able to come into classes or meetings late… doesn't have a schedule set up early as soon as school begins…" His eyes met Seth's; Seth's stomach dropped.

He knew where this was going.

Hunter had to be kidding.

This was a terrible idea.

Dean was as ready to protest as Seth, but Hunter silenced both of them with his palm. "No – Miss Young had evaluated Ambrose in classes, and he reacts best to  
Mister Rollins' –"

Again, both boys tried to protest with Dean turning a full beet red, but Hunter had control. "Mister Rollins has no first period class and, as far as I can tell, is as stubborn as Ambrose – he won't have to worry if there's a few hardships, y'know?."

Seth gulped, absolutely terrified. "You mean, like… just making sure he's in his first class, right?"

Hunter closed his eyes. "I think it would be more convenient for the both of you if you stopped by his house before you even came to work, but you two can work it out. If it would drive the point home - maybe it'll make the situation clear to Mr. Ambrose, you are to be babysat from the moment you leave your front door to the moment you step into your first period class."

This motherfucker is oh-so-fucking proud of himself.

Details were talked out while Seth tried to work out what had d just happened. As the meeting wrapped up, he watched Ambrose bolt – surprised when the kid stopped and muttered a choppy apology Seth could barely make out, and then waited for the office to clear.

Hunter waited until the office cleared to shake his hand. "So proud you didn't argue this – you're really growin' up, my boy. Really growing up! You're going to do great if you're this willing to help students succeed! Don't worry about your time clock in the mornings. We'll figure things out as we go."

Suddenly, Seth found himself yanked into the tightest hug the young man had ever experienced; by the time he knew what was happening, Hunter was stroking his hair while whispering sweet nothings into his ear. "_And next time you feel like covering for someone's inappropriate student relations, legal or not, you sure as Hell better be ready to be treated as an employee and not my crying little nephew. This doesn't make us even, buddy."_

* * *

Okay! I promise this s the last chapter where Dean isn't going to be as big a focus as Seth... because of that though, I am going to be including trigger warnings where they apply at the beginning of chapters, because this fic will get darker.

This will begin next chapter.

Nobody left reviews last chapter and I am sad about this, but I understand if y'all don't want to...

please, though? ;_;


	5. Chapter Four: Compulsions

Author's Notes: I mentioned last chapter that the fuck would get darker, and... yeah, okay. I'm not sure if there needs to be a **tw for animal cruelty** ? That sounds terrible, doesn't it? A warning for dark themes in general, too.

I don't really know what to say - I hope it doesn't come off as stupid or... I don't know?

Reviews are appreciated, and thank you for reading. Seth starts babysitting duty next chapter.

* * *

**[Chapter Four: Compulsions]**

Conversations with his Mom were always exhausting; Dean new his Ma' would always react better to constant reassurance than to any form of honesty… in that, they were complete opposites.

Dean had no idea how to talk to her anymore – of course he dreaded it, but talking to her on Friday afternoons while walking home from school was pretty much a ritual. He was pretty sure none of them would miss the interaction if it didn't happen, but it could surely be used against him in the easiest of ways.

He told her what she wanted to hear while walking along the highway because there were no sidewalks, occasionally jumping off the uneven pavement to examine whatever unnatural object looked interesting in the forested area a few feet outwards. Dean kept mental notes of where trash was located every so often, just to see how long it took for someone to take it away.

What set off his tick was the beat-down, greenish metro about 350-steps from the largest opening of trees – it'd been there since he'd started school this year, and it had never moved. He knew because he counted the distance in steps at least once a week. He'd taken a few looks inside over the months, not noticing some cars slowing down to judge his own level of criminal activity.

Dean was pretty sure someone was dead and really confused about why nobody had come to take away a car that had been there for three months. Didn't anybody notice the car sitting under over-grown shrubbery with what had to be a dead person hidden somewhere inside?

He wouldn't fall for their trick.

He did, however, let his mouth slip while examining the lock on the car's trunk. "Look, Ma' – You're in a state hospital – your room mates hate you as much as you hate them, so what do you want me to do about it?"

The cringe covered up some of his Mom's response, which he could literally translate as pure blabbering, something he knew would've been both a scolding and an attempt to joke with him. She kept trying to say something but continued tripping over her words, but he had already cut her off, laughing in feigned amazement. "Oh God, Ma'. You are so fucking stoned."

He'd already fucked up this conversation, so why not take it all the way.

"You going to be home for Thanksgiving?"

"Of course, the doctors say I can leave anytime I want to."

Nothing they didn't both know, but also something she had yet to tell him. She'd explain to him later that she didn't feel _safe_ leaving – that she felt _comfortable_ where she was.

Dean waited for his Mom to catch herself, but wasn't surprised when she said nothing.

"So, are you going to be home for Thanksgiving?"

"We'll see, Dean – you know how things are, right."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah – got to go; I'm at the interstate and I almost get myself killed every time I try to cross while I'm on the phone."

It wasn't like he was holding words like "_I love you_" from her; it was just that he really couldn't tell sometimes.

Now.. Dean wasn't sure about a lot of things, but there were a few constants that would always come back to him in the middle of the day; rues of life.

The first was something that defined who he was as a person – it happened every moment of every day, even if he could sometimes forget.

There is always something watching.

There weren't any places to go where he wasn't being watched; it was harder for things to watch him in confined areas – to read his thoughts when he was laying low, but they were there. Logically, humans couldn't follow you everywhere – video cameras seemed like an inefficient way of watching someone all the time, but if they were there – it was always in the corners. If there were no corners, it was just… _there_.

When he wandered off into the forest, he was ready for a break from that. Forests were good, because forests were places where things – actual predators – would watch you and hunt you…

Also, the things that watched Dean were too big for the small openings that even he had to slide through to get to the spot he liked – it was a strange little spot, about yards from the road. There was a dumb slab of cement with a random streetlamp sticking out of it. He couldn't figure out why they'd decided to put this décor' up in this one specific spot.

He could tell you some weird shit had probably gone down here, but Dean thought it was cozy.

Dean had tossed his hoodie against a tree the moment his backpack came off; it wasn't a big deal to clear leaves or bugs off it later. His backpack would come with him, though. It usually came with him.

See, Dean was easily distracted, which was a really good thing because there really wasn't a goddamned thing for him to do anywhere else – he and this pole had spent what most would find an uncomfortably large amount of time with this pole. So many injuries had come from this baby, from trying to re-enact Disney's "_I'll Make a Man Out of You_" using his backpack (two concussions and one bleeding skull, if you'd like to see he would proudly show you the scars) to trying to see if he could ever find anything solid enough to bend its metal.

One of his more proud moments was when he'd figured out how to unscrew the thing that got to some of the inner-wiring; while he would indeed think twice before sticking his hand into something like that again, he still liked to poke at the innards of electronics with sticks.

Today was a beating day; he had some branches he'd fucked with and carved on until they became long, thick beating sticks and spears for no particular reason aside from the good reason that there was no reason not to – they'd yet to break, but he'd be very surprised if they didn't today.

He had some excess energy.

Excess anger.

It took a long time before the beating of the pole became mindless – his thoughts were stuck on the meeting. On everything. He knew people thought his skipping school was a cry for attention, and it sure as Hell wasn't. Dean knew people could read minds, but somehow they never got his thoughts quite right. Everyone could control him but they didn't know why their methods worked.

Coach hadn't done that yet, for which he was grateful, but he'd probably be convinced to try. If he did… well, Dean actually didn't know what would happen; he knew guys like Seth Rollins, and all of them had too much going for them to get involved in his life.

But all Dean Ambrose wanted was to live and die at his own pace; a two year setback wasn't a big deal in the long run; it wouldn't change where he was going in life. Guys like him were made for military life. Everyone thought he had no plans for his future? No, he had all of them, up until his lonely and pathetic death.

_Of course, someone will have to take care of Mom._

It was that single intrusive thought that led to the stick shattering. He knew where these thoughts were going. He really shouldn't think anymore.

Sticks.

Go find more sticks.

Dean was using the remaining sharpened stick to play the explorer, looking for a fallen branch both large enough and weak enough to make a new beatin' device out of when he found the perfect thing. It hadn't been there last week, but that was cool – a large set of branches had just fallen off a tree. He would have to snap off the smaller sticks growing out of the branches, but he loved this sort of thing. It wasn't nature that calmed him and he knew it because he'd had a doctor ask on multiple occasions, it was just…

He had layers of just how closed off he could get, and obsessing over doing shit like this was as close to an outer layer as he could get to these days.

His attempts were futile.

Maneuvering throughout the fallen branches Dean heard a crack. He almost missed it, but in moods like this noticing things is all he was good for. Of course it could've been a part of the branch, but he didn't feel the snap of a twig – it was too different. Lifting his foot, he found a bird. It was long dead, but he'd stepped on a bird nonetheless.

The first thing to do – the first thing not to do? – was to examine it he really shouldn't; he knew he shouldn't, but he just wanted to see what it looked like right now. He hadn't killed it – it wasn't his fault? He could look, right?

Something told him not to, but he did. It took all his self-control to only look. Just look. He managed, and he found the trade-off... see, there was always a trade-off – if you did something bad, you had to do something good. He'd just spent a few minutes staring at a dead bird, twitching and peeling leaves apart.

As repayment for almost turning it into a science experiment, Dean did touch the bird, but not before digging a hole as a makeshift grave. He even made sure to be careful while moving its corpse to its grave.

He was shaking, but he didn't break it any worse than it had been.

But he couldn't stop shaking, but he couldn't leave – if he left and he was shaking than whatever it was watching him would notice his twitches and his ticks and he may not get rid of them tonight. He spent time pacing, but that's all he did, up until he was calm enough that he could trust himself with a carving.

Dean got to that point, but life just couldn't leave him well enough alone.

Where there was a bird, there was a nest, and he had just laid eyes on it – he wasn't looking for things anymore, but white and blue wasn't a common color in this sort of area. No longer needing to care about his dirty jeans, he just leaned over to peek at what was inside. He'd never seen the bottom of a bird's nest, but instead a bottom he found an egg.

_Fuck_.

Egg in hand, he rolled back onto his butt against one of the trees – he had to remember this wasn't the kind of thing you could just toss in the air, but it was heavier than he'd expected, too. The more he examined it, the worse he felt about it.

Soon he had started cleaning it, licking his finger to rub dirt off and repeating the process until the egg was perfectly clean – people called him unsanitary all the time, but he didn't really get it… besides, nurturing was an important part of the birthing process, and it wasn't like he was stupid enough to actually lick that.

His hand was practically numb before it was clean to his standards, and he had memorized all the blue speckles of the shell, though he was still trying to figure out the top from the bottom, but could birds get brain-damage? Some birds were pretty fucking stupid so there was a possibility… Oh, well.

He'd just find another nest for it, or something. Keep himself busy.

It's possible that Dean had gotten a little too attached in a little too short of a period, even for his tastes – he loved animals, but he had made a little spot for it in his shirt because he couldn't trust himself to not toss the fucking thing. He'd made that mistake before, unfortunately…

Dean had his backpack on by the time the real trouble started in the form of constant paranoia. Maybe it was that dead bird – probably the egg's Mother. Maybe she was mad at him for taking her bird.

Probably not, because the logic was the same as it always had been. There wasn't an outside force – or maybe there was, but that outside force didn't even matter because the voices in his head had made the rules loud and clear.

Looking at the egg, Dean walked up to a tree.

The voices had made it clear.

Like a mantra.

_ You are incapable of doing more good than bad._

He'd heard it long enough to accept it as fact, but there were times where he was sure it was as much of a threat as it was a reminder.

Because of that, he found himself holding the egg against his lamp-post like a nail – he covered the top of it and used his other hand as a hammer, splattering shell and whatever was inside against the metal.

He'd let it all dry and clean his hands when he made it home; do laundry because his hoodie was gross and shitty and had drippy bits all over it.

He hoped whatever the things making the rules were appreciated his compliance; that they knew how exhausted and disappointed he was, today – maybe they'd let him and Mister Rollins have a good first week together, because they did not have to push him that far…

That he'd been listening to them this whole time.

After all, Dean just didn't want to admit he had been curious about bird's insides since the moment he'd stepped on one.

Sometimes Dean wondered if there was really anything watching him at all...


End file.
